HetaOni- Just Kill Me Now
by Raven-Shinigami
Summary: Italy realizes the futility of trying to escape the mansion, so he turns to suicide as an answer after he-once again-is the only one who manages to escape. However, things don't exactly go as planned, and Italy would have been better off not accepting help from the first stranger who claims they can help. But desperate times call for desperate measures...Just how desperate, though?
1. Chapter 1

**HetaOni. Has officially messed me up. Why another HetaOni fic? WHY?! TTATT**

**I... I don't know what to say about this except... PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! And I'm sorry (on behalf of all previously published works and future ones) for my inconsistent writing style. I do that a lot. 'Cause I SUCK!**

**And no, I do ****_not_**** claim to own HetaOni or Hetalia. Why? Because if I did own them, I wouldn't be writing on ****_ . _****You know, for ****_fan fiction_**** written by ****_fans?_**

**Also, icon by ~Uncle-Nemes1s on deviantART.**

**So, enjoy. That's all I can say about this story.**

* * *

Italy sobbed. He was all alone. Again. Sliding to the ground, he curled in on himself as great convulsions shook him. He clutched his journal to his chest, but did not have the will to use it.

_Failed again,_ he thought. _I've failed again. But how? I did everything right. And yet… I'm alone. They've let me alone again. Over and over and over I go in circles, turning around and around as they all leave me. Like a dog chasing his own tail. Forever._

And Italy finally decided that trying to save everybody was a hopeless cause. The only course left to him… was to save himself.

Rising shakily to his feet, Italy looked up to the sky. He felt his tears burn down his face, felt the soft _plip, plip, plip,_ as the drops of saltwater hit is stockinged feet. Oh, the sky! The sky, with its low gray clouds and oppressive atmosphere! How… fitting. However, Italy did not delude himself that the sky was reflecting his own inner turmoil; he instead allowed it to bring him some measure of understanding comfort. But it wasn't enough.

Nothing would ever be enough anymore. Nothing… nothing… nothing. And that's what he'd be very soon. Very, very soon.

Nothing, nothing at all…

* * *

It had been several days now. Several days since he had escaped the mansion. Yes. _That_ mansion. Italy shuddered slightly at the memory. Strangely, though, the pain of the recollection was duller than it had been the day before. And that, in turn, had been less sharp than the day before that one. It all seemed so distant, as though he was simply looking on from afar-a curious spectator. As though he were just viewing the memories of a different person. In fact, he didn't exactly feel as though he were actually present in his life at that moment, either. It was almost as though he was gazing out of someone else's eyes, or at least seeing things out of a spyglass with the small end facing away. That is to say, shrinking and warping the physical world in such a way as to feel real, yet _sur_real all at once.

Presently, Italy sat himself down next to a small, dirty building. He needed to rest, for he was feeling quite lightheaded. Well, it made sense. After all, he was separating himself from reality as noon drew nearer.

_Well, I'm here,_ his inner voice said. _I'm here, in this town, and now all I need to do is find the rendezvous point._

Slowly rising to his feet, Italy stumbled but steadied himself against the building's wall. Slowly but surely, he began making his way towards the central plaza. Although completely detached from his emotions, Italy could still feel a slight impression of what he might feel, had he not been completely cut off from that part of his mind. It felt strange. Almost like he cared. Except, he didn't. Not at all. Italy walked down the street, not seeing very many people on the way.

The town's lack of life made Italy wonder about it. After all, what town didn't have people out and about in the middle of the afternoon? It just wasn't normal. But then again, who was he to judge what "normal" was? What he was about to do definitely wasn't considered to be a "normal" thing. Shrugging off the question, Italy moved on.

Left, right, left, right, another right, and then he was in the main plaza. At first glance, it was a fairly well-maintained place, with beautiful architecture, too. However, upon closer inspection, Italy found that there were many cracks running through the stone tiles on the ground, and the fountain in the center had run dry. Little brownish clumps of grass stuck up from in between tiny crevices in the plaza. Overall, the effect was that of a lonely, abandoned place. Just like the mansion…

Just then, Italy heard footsteps behind him. Whirling around, he found that it was only the man he had agreed to meet up with. Relaxing slightly, Italy turned to face his companion.

"So, is it ready?" he asked, slipping into his formal voice.

A brief nod told him all he needed to know. He followed the man down an alleyway and through a black door. Inside was a long dirty hallway, and at the end was another door. Italy followed the man into the room and sat in a wooden chair. The room was nicely lit, and had fine furniture. Paintings lined the walls, and, contrary to the assumptions one might make from the condition of the hallway, was very clean. The man who had escorted Italy here left, saying that he would be back in a minute. Italy remained calm, despite the events he knew would inevitably come to pass.

In fact, he should probably enjoy the paintings while he still had the chance…

Rising to his feet, the brunette country began to walk around the room, giving special attention to each painting as he passed by. It reminded him of the Renaissance. In fact, some of the paintings actually _were_ from that time period. How he would miss such times. But, then again, how could he miss it if he no longer existed? Oh, well. Italy suspected that, whatever happened, it wouldn't matter to him anyways. He just had to move on. Which is exactly what he was trying to do. This would be the perfect way to do it, too. In this room, with its Renaissance paintings, surrounded by memories…

The man in black returned, carrying with him a single case. He brought it over the the table situated in the center of the room, opening it and beginning to mix the ingredients inside. Italy slowly wandered over to the table and looked on over the man's shoulder. It was almost time.

Almost, but not quite yet. The suspense was killing him.

* * *

**PLEASE DON'T SHOOT ME DOWN!**

**I'm sorry for the mysterious person, I really am! No, they will not be revealed later. Why? Because they were just stuck in there for plot reasons, mmkay?**

**The next chapter will wrap it up. Sorry if it's going so fast and sucks, 'cause it was a rush job done for fun. Truly, I am. I'm sorry. Especially for Italy.**

**Italy: Rae-Rae, why do you like to torture me?**

**Rae-Rae: No, Italy! It's not like that! I love you so much! It's just... HetaOni obsession... I'll get over it soon, I promise.**

**Italy: Please stop writing such horrible fics! I can't take much more of this sadness!**

**Rae-Rae: *hugs Italy and pats his head* Hush, hush. It's okay. It's just a scary story. They'll stop soon (I hope). Don't worry, everything will be all right...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! Last chapter.**

**Don't own Italy, Hetalia, or HetaOni. That's all I'll say about this.**

* * *

"Is your poison good? Are you sure it will not make me suffer for too long?" This is what Italy found himself saying as the man prepared the lethal concoction.

"Oh, yes. Quite. You see, you won't even have time to feel the needle in your skin; that's how potent my poisons are," replied the man, meticulously measuring out a yellow powder. Italy let out a little sigh of relief-at least he didn't have to worry about that now. A swift, painless death… It was more than he deserved. After all, he had abandoned his friends. Instead of using the journal to go back in time-again-to try and save his friends, he was doing this; he was saving himself.

_But I will probably see them wherever countries go when they die,_ Italy thought. This consoled him further, and he sat down on the couch next to the man.

Italy had met him shortly after his escape from the mansion. They had met on the streets in the town nearest the mansion and had somehow started a conversation. He had dropped several hints at wanting to die, but had never directly said anything of the sort. Apparently, though, this man was very sharp; he caught on right away and told Italy that he was good with poisons, though he never directly said that he could use them to help kill Italy. It was more of an implied sort of thing. After that, Italy had paid the man half the money in advance, and the man set up a rendezvous point in a neighboring town. They had parted ways, and each taken their own course to the set location.

While Italy had worried that the poison wouldn't be strong enough to kill a country, the man had assured him that his poisons worked on everybody-no exception. Now, it was almost time to pay the man the other half for his services…

Speaking of which, the man was done mixing his concoction. Italy dragged himself out of the depths of his mind and back to the matter at hand. Quickly, he felt around his pockets, bringing up the rest of the money. He handed it over to the man, who pocketed it and instructed Italy to roll up his sleeve. Italy complied, and the man brought the tip of the syringe to the country's forearm. The liquid was an odd sort of color, and Italy wondered what was in it. Although if it managed to kill him, that really didn't hold any sort of relevance. He was fully aware of the possibility that he might not die. However, he didn't find that at all likely. Italy was prepared to throw everything away if it meant escape. That's all he wanted now.

The syringe plunged into his skin, but Italy didn't even feel it. Just as promised. He was already drifting away…

* * *

Italy discovered that he was still alive several days later, when he finally awoke. The man, of course, was gone, having taken the money and run. For the liquid in the syringe was not one that would kill; instead, it was merely a strong sedative. In addition to that, the man (who had been employed by an anonymous entity) had added a special ingredient into the mixture. It would not allow Italy to die. Period.

This was discovered by the very country in question when he tried to commit suicide. Over and over again, he attempted it, but every time, he lived. At night, he would clutch the journal to his chest, tears sliding down his face, wondering _why._ Why he couldn't die, not matter how hard he tried. Even starving himself and ignoring everything his people needed didn't allow him to slip away.

If only he had first tried to kill himself, before he had hired that man to help. Now, he couldn't die, and for some reason, his journal wasn't working. He could not go back in time, and it hurt. It hurt him so, so much. And still, he could not die. Often, he would be sitting alone, wrapped in a cold blanket of misery, when a happy memory would invade his mind. Italy would embrace the memory, and try to stay in that happy place. It never worked. Directly after such occurrences, Italy would once again try to kill himself, without any real hope of succeeding.

What he wouldn't do for company! A friend, anybody! Even the countries who hadn't been affected by the mansion wouldn't have anything to do with Italy. They all thought he was bad luck, and avoided him like the plague. He became more and more reclusive, never venturing from his house, always, always, always thinking of how things could have ended differently.

If only he had not led the others to the mansion, they might all still be alive. They might all have been talking right now, laughing and joking… But that was a dream that would never be realized. Because Italy couldn't die, couldn't reach them from across the border between "life" and "death." He would have gladly given anything to see his friends at least one last time, to tell them he was sorry, and to make amends. The problem was, he didn't have anything left to give. He had given until it hurt, had tried to be happy even while knowing that they would die, had even tried sacrificing himself that the others might live… How had it all gone amiss?

If only he had not realized the pattern. Maybe then he could at least still be with his friends, even if it _was_ in the mansion. Had he not realized the repeating time loops, perhaps they could have been spared. If only he'd _tried._ If only he'd _tried_ to change things. Maybe they could have-just maybe-things would be different. but he would never know now. It would be his constant companion, plaguing him until eternity.

For he was alone, and he could not die. Why oh why had he gone into the mansion? Maybe if he had confessed what he knew earlier on, in the second time loop. And yet. And yet, he hadn't. The path that he had set himself on was the one he would have to take.

"God!" he screamed to the sky. "Why… why didn't you take me with them, too? Why didn't you accept me beyond those pearly white gates to live happily ever after with my friends? Why?!"

Collapsing to the ground and weeping with the dead journal clutched close to him, Italy sobbed quietly, "God, why don't you just kill me now?"

* * *

**I can just hear it now: "No, Rae-Rae, why would you do this to me?! You're ruining my life with your dark fics!"**

**I'm sorry, people. Rae-Rae just can't help herself. All happy fics end up in the garbage can, okay? Because Rae-Rae doesn't know how to write happy things.**

**Rae-Rae: What is this "happy" of which you speak?**

**And that first quote. Because I read The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in class. Which, incidentally, is what gave me the idea for this fic in the first place.**

**Also, sorry for the mysterious dude and the unknown employer. Again, it was just for the plot to end sadly, with Italy being forever separated from his friends...**

**Although I might explain it later, if I ever need use of them again.**

**BTW, for those of you waiting on the next chapter of ****_HetaOni- The Aftermath, _****I suggest you not wait for a while. You see, I need to do some research, and it might take a while to get going on that. However, I do have another fic waiting to happen, and I will put it up as soon as possible (at least, the first couple of chapters). Maybe even later today. **


End file.
